No Team To Root For (26) Barrett could feel his neck heat up and his breathing intensify. He started to get up again. Miles and George grabbed him. "They'll slap you with a contempt charge." whispered Miles. Barrett waited a moment, then shook off their grip as he sat back down. He knew he had to keep his cool. He was in enough trouble. His moment of glory would come when he took the stand. Morris blew his nose into his red handkerchief, studied it, then put it back into his pocket. He went on. "So I runs home as fast as I can, cause now I knows where I lives." "Then what?" asked the prosecutor. "Uh --- " The witness sniffed. " --- after I gets home I starts to call the cops --- " "And?" Walt asked calmly. "Well --- " Hartman began to squirm in his seat. "And?" repeated the prosecutor. Walt Ivers and Morris Hartman were almost nose to nose. "Well --- " Hartman cleared his throat and looked at the judge. " --- I --- I got a --- small prison record." Morris took out his hand-kerchief again, folded it and wiped his face. "Your Honor." Miles was not about to let Morris off the hook. "Would you please instruct the witness to speak louder?" "I said that I have a --- a small prison record." Hartman started slobbering as he spoke, looking more like a bulldog now than he did when he first sat down. "So?" The prosecutor prodded. "So I figures --- who would listen to someone like me?" He wiped his mouth. "And maybe the cops would even think that I done it." "I see." Walt tried to be patient with his witness. "So what did you do?" "I waited a week or so. But I couldn't stand it no more. My con-science got the better of me and I realized the error of my ways. So that's when I decided to call the cops." "Isn't that sweet?" George muttered under his breath. "I think I'm going to fucking throw up!" "Who did you talk to?" Walt Ivers continued to lead his witness with no objection from the defense. "I talked to a Deputy Sam Ingles." "What did Deputy Ingles say?" Ivers asked it almost confiden-tially. Morris cleared his throat again. "He took the information and said he would call your office." "Which he did." added Ivers smugly. "Objection!" Miles stood up. His face was red. "If the prosecu-tion wishes to offer information, let him take the stand!" "Your Honor, the court will see that won't be necessary." What does that mean? "I have no further questions. Your witness." Miles walked slowly up to the stand, face to face with Hartman. "Morris --- may I call you Morris? I hate formality." Morris shrugged. "Sure." Miles went on, knowing that Mason Stoner was viciously glaring at him. "Morris, did you actually see the defendant pull the trigger?" "Well --- " Morris started to pull on his shirt collar. "Yes or no! Take your time, Morris." "Come on, Morris. Fuck up so Miles can nail you!" George con-tinued to keep his voice low. Morris Hartman was now wiping his face feverishly. Miles continued. "Or maybe the deceased held the weapon and the defendant was trying to take it away." Morris was silent. He blinked his narrow eyes repeatedly and be-gan to squirm in his seat again. Miles turned briefly to the jury then he turned back to the witness. "Or maybe you just made this whole thing up!" "Objection!" roared Walt Ivers. "Sustained! Mr. Garrison --- " "I withdraw the last comment." Miles turned to the jury again, facing the young woman in the front row. This time she was ex-pressionless. "Now, Morris. I ask you again. Did you actually see the defendant pull the trigger?" "Well --- " Morris' eyes were darting all over the courtroom. "Yes or no!" Miles yelled it contemptuously. Then he paused, smiled and softened his tone. "Morris, you're not nervous --- are you?" "No. Why should I be nervous?" Morris wiped his face again. "I just sweat a lot." "Morris." Miles spoke softly. "This is a real easy question. You do like easy questions --- don't you?" "Oh sure. You bet." Morris smiled displaying two gold teeth.--- one on top and one on bottom. "Good! Now let me ask you again." Miles was determined. "I'll talk slowly. Did - you - see - the - defendant - pull - the - trigger?" Morris, sweating profusely, was wiping his face with the handker-chief in one hand and tugging at his soiled shirt collar with the other. He was sweating profusely. "I --- I think so." "You think so." Miles paused and again looked at the well dressed woman in the front row. "But you're not certain." Morris started to answer, but Miles quickly cut him off and shifted gears. "Now you did say that you had a --- small prison record --- did you not?" "Uh --- well --- yes." Miles took out a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He spoke directly to the young female juror. "Is this what you call a small prison record? December fourth, 1976: aggravated assault. February eighth, 1977: petty theft. June ninth, 1978 --- " "I object!" Walt Ivers was on his feet again and screaming. "We have ascertained that Morris Hartman has a record. But Morris Hartman is not on trial here!" Ivers took a short step forward. "And where did you get that --- that slander sheet?" "Sustained! Mr. Garrison. You will please confine yourself and your questions to only those details that are pertinent to this case." "Your Honor, I am trying to show the court --- " "I will not repeat what I said." Mason Stoner reached out his hand in Miles' direction. "Now please hand me that paper." Miles hesitated a second, then laid the paper in Stoner's large hand. As he turned back to Morris, he gave George a wink. "Morris, let me ask you another question. Do you normally go around looking into stranger's windows?" "Objection!" Walt's voice cracked. He was seated on the edge of his chair, his finger pointed at the defense attorney. "Sustained!" "Your Honor. The witness has testified to having a criminal re-cord. In addition to perjury, I would like to add 'voyeur' to the list!" "This is outrageous!" Walt was standing and shaking his fist in the air. "I withdraw the last comment." Miles responded quickly. "The jury will disregard that last statement made by the defense." Stoner turned to Miles and spoke with restrained anger. "Mr. Garri-son! You will use more discretion when you question a witness. I am getting tired of constantly reminding you!" Miles nodded. "Your point is well taken, Your Honor." Stoner took a deep breath and shook his head in disgust. "Pro-ceed." Miles leaned in close to the witness. "Morris, a man's life is at stake here." Barrett could feel his body stiffen and his insides shake. "And you do know the penalty for perjury --- don't you?" Morris did not answer, but instead looked at Walt Ivers for assis-tance. He got none. Miles continued on the attack. "So maybe the defendant pulled the trigger --- and maybe he didn't." Now he raised his voice. "Be-cause maybe he wasn't there!" Morris remained silent, still looking in vain to Walt Ivers for help. Instead, he was left alone to drown in his own sweat and suffocate under his pack of lies. Barrett could not have been happier. "You are not certain of what you saw, are you? Well? Are you? That is assuming you saw anything at all!" Morris' eyes continued to dart in all directions. He wiped his bald head vigorously. "Morris. Creeps like you make me sick to my stomach. No fur-ther questions!" Miles turned and went quickly back to his seat. "Mr. Ivers," asked Stoner, "do you wish to cross examine?" "I have no questions, Your Honor." Stoner and Ivers exchanged a brief aggravated glance. "Witness is excused." Morris looked at Walt Ivers. Then he looked at Mason Stoner. Then he stood up, paused for a moment and ran out of the court-room. * After a ten minute recess for the court stenographer to repair her keyboard, Sam Ingles was called up as the State's final hope. As Sam was being sworn in, he and Barrett Jessop locked eyes for an instant. Barrett once again saw the deputy's eyes as evasive, deceitful, and dishonest. He saw them as the eyes of a liar! Sam sat loftily in the witness box, back straight and chin slightly raised. His badge appeared to have been recently polished. His uni-form was spotless and wrinkle free. "Mr. Ingles." said Walt Ivers. "Please state your full name and your occupation." "My name is Samuel Ingles and I am the deputy sheriff of Patton, Ohio." Walt then leaned in just far enough for Sam to see the white enve-lope in his inside jacket pocket. The envelope that contained the promised money. The deputy then decisively and in lengthy detail described the non-existent phone call from Morris Hartman. Sam told the court why Morris called, what he said and saw, and why he had waited so long to tell his story. As he spoke, he never took his eyes from Walt's jacket. Sam was indeed well prepared and no one was more aware of it than Miles Garrison. "No further questions." Then Walt smiled assuredly as he turned to the defense attorney. "Your witness." "George." whispered Barrett. "I hope Miles knows that little beady eyed bastard is lying!" George nodded. "And now," continued Barrett, "he'll reinforce a perjured testi-mony." "He knows." George whispered back. "Miles knows everything." "Deputy Ingles." Miles put his hands behind his back and strolled up to the witness. "Didn't you find it a bit unusual for an eyewitness to wait so long to call you and report what he saw?" "Not really." Sam threw a quick glance at Walt Ivers. " I believe I said all that --- "If you had seen a crime committed," Miles interrupted. "would you wait a week before you contacted the authorities?" Sam narrowed his eyes and smirked. "I am the authorities!" Miles face turned bright red. "Your honor. I would appreciate it if you instruct this witness to refrain from inappropriate remarks and merely answer the question!" Stoner looked at Miles, hesitated, then looked at Sam. "Mr. In-gles." The judge spoke softly and condescendingly. "You will please answer the question." "Furthermore, Your Honor," Miles quickly added. "defense will consider this witness as hostile." "So noted." "What I meant was --- " "I am not interested in what you meant!" roared Miles. "This is not a pivotal moment in history! It is a simple question." Miles took a deep breath. "Now. Would you wait a week before reporting a crime you had witnessed? And not just any crime. But murder!" Sam waited a moment. "Well, I --- " "Yes or no, Deputy Ingles!" "No. But there was --- " "Thank you!" Miles again interrupted. Then he paused before continuing in a more subdued tone. "There had been some previous concern regarding the trigger mechanism of the weapon in ques-tion." Miles turned to the jury. "In your professional opinion would it have been near impossible for a woman to pull the trigger on the gun that shot Jodi Bartless?" "I object!" said Walt. "That has already been determined." "Your Honor, I am getting a second opinion." Miles then glared at the prosecutor. "I assume that's permissible." Mason Stoner hesitated a moment, then looked at Walt Ivers. "Overruled. "His tone was uncharacteristically subdued. "Please answer the question." "It would have been difficult but not impossible." Sam now seemed visibly uncomfortable as he began to squirm in his seat. "Then a woman could have pulled the trigger." Miles was not going to back down. Sam did not respond. He looked at Walt, then at Mason, then back at Miles. "May I remind you," said the defense attorney, "that you are un-der oath." "Scum like Sam Ingles eventually show their true colors." Barrett said it quietly to himself. "What?" asked George. "Hmmm --- ? Oh nothing, George. Nothing." "Well --- " continued Sam, " --- I suppose a woman could have pulled the trigger, but --- " "Thank you, Sam, for clearing that little problem up for us." Miles said it to Walt Ivers. "Sam, tell me something." Miles licked his lips and got closer to the witness. "If the accused shot Ms. Bartless, where were his fin-gerprints?" "Either he wore gloves, wiped the weapon clean, or --- " Sam stopped and glanced around the courtroom. "Or --- what?" Miles and Sam were almost nose to nose. After a long moment, Sam responded. "He didn't hold the gun." "Oh?" Miles backed away. "Then who did --- hold the gun, that is?" "The deceased held the weapon. The defendant squeezed her fin-ger as he shot her. So only her prints were found." George grabbed Barrett's arm. He was taking no chances on Bar-rett's jumping up and screaming something stupid or charging the witness stand. "My my! Did you figure this out all by yourself?" Sam cleared his throat and began to squirm in his seat again. "Not really. Morris Hartman told me how he saw it happen." What a first class asshole! Barrett kept his thoughts to himself. "That is hearsay evidence, Deputy Ingles. And it is not admissi-ble!" Miles quickly turned to Stoner. "Your Honor --- " "I will take it under advisement." said Stoner regretfully. "Tell me, Sam. How could you possibly take the word of a piece of slime like Morris Hartman?" "Objection!" yelled Walt Ivers. "Defense's conduct is beyond re-proach!" "Sustained." "Your Honor --- " Stoner banged his gavel. "I said sustained!" Miles paused as if collecting his thoughts. Then he nodded and looked at the witness. "Sam. Where was the sheriff all this time?" "He was out of town." "How convenient." Miles looked at Barrett. Then he looked back at Sam. "Tell me, Sam, what is your title?" "I believe I stated that previously." "Well then --- state it again!" "I am the deputy sheriff of Patton, Ohio." "I see. And just how long have you been deputy?"
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